


All Ears

by AlexKingOfTheDamned



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A Third Of The Time, Crack, Ears, Jarvis Speaks Italian, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tony Is A Slut, Weird Biology, drunk science, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/AlexKingOfTheDamned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why Bruce allows Tony to sucker him into Drunk Science again and again is beyond him. Nothing good ever comes out of Drunk Science. Ever. </p><p>Except maybe this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Ears

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd porn for porn's sake. my writing partner is literally the best bro ever.

Why Bruce allows Tony to sucker him into Drunk Science again and again is beyond him. Nothing good _ever_ comes out of Drunk Science. Ever.

 

Case in point:

 

  * Inflatable Iron Man
  * Hulk Pheromones
  * Foam-Cheese
  * Origami Cannon
  * Pizza Shoes
  * Doors on Wheels



 

Over and over again, Bruce gives into those big brown puppy dog eyes. Which is annoying, considering everyone says _he’s_ supposed to be the cute one. Last night, it happened again. He knew going into it that he would wake up in the morning next to whatever monstrosity of science they brought into the world, and he’d probably have to fight with Tony over whether or not to take it out. (They’d mutually agreed on nixing the possibility of a Hulkboner, but the gun that fires giant paper cranes is still in storage)

 

To make matters worse, halfway through the night, right before Bruce usually blacked out, Tony broke out a joint. It was smaller than Bruce’s pinkie, but lighting it was officially the last thing he remembered.

 

Always the first to rise and survey the destruction, Bruce groaned and sat up. He felt significantly drafty, and upon looking down, finds that he’s been stripped totally naked – save for his shoes and socks. Tony is lying face down several feet away in his tee shirt and underwear. His shoes have somehow adhered to the ceiling.

 

Standing is a chore, but Bruce needs coffee before his body caves in on itself. He stares dimly across the lab. He’s definitely woken up to it worse than this in the past. The couch is standing vertical on an arm rest, Dummy is rotating in a slow circle, and it appears as though they decided one of the Iron Man suits needed slinky limbs, if the long, tubular appendages snaking off of the Mk 61 is any indication.

 

“Tony,” he mutters, finding his glasses magnetized to the wall and slipping them over his nose. He toes Tony in the ribs, two mugs of coffee in his hands. “Tony, wake up.”

 

Tony lets out a groan, still half-asleep. And he'd prefer it that way, because the moment he opens his eyes, his head starts throbbing. He closes his eyes again, unresponsive for a good few minutes, before finally deciding that the floor was a rather uncomfortable place to be sleeping.

 

He sits up, covering one of his eyes as he holds his head in an attempt to ease his pounding headache. He looks around the lab, before looking up at naked Bruce with a tired smirk. "Apparently we had some fun last night, huh?" He mumbles with a yawn, reaching for his cup of coffee.

 

“My clothes are nowhere to be found,” Bruce mumbles back, sipping his own coffee. “I think they were disintegrated. There’s a pile of ash in the corner.”

 

"Wouldn't surprise me." Tony says as he takes a good long drink from his coffee, not seeming to have any plans to get up off of the floor any time soon. "Want my shirt?" He asks as he sets his coffee down next to him, slipping off his shirt, tossing it up to Bruce.

 

Bruce tugs the black tee down over his head. Tight on Tony, looser on Bruce. He picks up an overturned stool and perches on it, staring hazily around the lab to take inventory again.

 

“Sixty-one is a little um – well, it could use a little bit of pulling together. Unless you need an extendo-suit for whatever reason.” He kicks the hand of the suit, the wrist of which is coiled around a lamp, at the end of at least two dozen feet of arm.

 

Tony holds back a laugh as he looks over his ridiculous addition to his suit from where he was sitting. "You know, I bet Reed was my inspiration." He jokes. "Next time we do this we should invite Reed. He seems like a fun drunk. Hank too. Hell we can have a whole scientists-who-are-also-heroes party. That'd be fun." He suggested with a grin, half-serious. "On second thought, let's not invite Hank. He's kind of a loser."

 

“You’re a loser,” Bruce defends their friend weakly, smiling sleepily. “Remind me to never let you mix alcohol and weed again.”

 

He eventually helps Tony up to his feet. They wobble and hold onto each other and giggle and accidentally drink out of each others coffee, but it doesn’t really matter. When they try to leave, the door is locked. And not only is it locked, but when Tony tries to type in the override, the door growls at them.

 

“I’m very dispiacente, sir,” Jarvis speaks up. Tony and Bruce exchange glances. “Last notte, Dr. Banner richiesto that I mantenere the lab bloccato until you due clean the pasticcio you made. Si agreed.”

 

“Jarvis, _why_ are you talking like that?” Tony stares dumbly at the ceiling.

 

“You thought esso would be divertente if every terzo word I parlato was Italian, signore.”

 

Bruce sighs. “Good job, Tony.”

 

"Shit." Tony grumbles, looking over at Bruce. "Italian is one of the languages I don't know, do you know Italian? Tell him to stop." Tony says, looking around the lab. "From what I caught, I think he's telling us to clean up, though." He scratches his head, trying not to let out a groan. This was going to take a while, and knowing the two of them, absolutely nothing would be accomplished.

 

“I thought he said something about pistachios,” Bruce mutters.

 

They trudge around aimlessly, occasionally picking stuff up and putting it down again somewhere else. They manage to get the couch down on all four legs, but Dummy refuses to stop spinning, so they duct tape him to a wall.

 

They eventually end up lying on their backs, side by side on one of Tony’s lab tables with a ream of printer paper between them which they keep wadding into balls and chucking at Tony’s shoes on the ceiling above them to try and get them to fall down.

 

"We're never going to be let out, are we?" Tony asks rhetorically, staring up at his shoes on the ceiling, not even daring to look at the mess still on the floor. He wads up another ball of paper, throwing it a bit harder at his shoes. "Think I can get them if you give me a boost?" He suggests.

 

“Maybe,” Bruce turns over on his side to face Tony with a lazy smile. “But I don’t think we need to be in any hurry to leave, to be honest. It’s kind of nice here. We’re all alone.” He scooches forward and kisses the tip of Tony’s nose.

 

Tony scrunches up his face when Bruce kisses his nose, chuckling slightly. "Yeah, you do have a point." He agrees, giving up on trying to get his shoes down at the moment.

 

Bruce rolls over on top of Tony and kisses him. They both have morning breath and coffee mouth, but they’re so used to each other at this point that it doesn’t even phase them. Bruce sets his glasses off to the side and props himself up on his elbows on either side of Tony’s head so he can keep leisurely kissing him. Tony returns every single one of Bruce's kisses, his arms finding their way around his neck. The kisses are soft, but dragged out, almost lazy. Though he definitely won't turn sex down if the suggestion came up, he's perfectly content just lying on the lab table, kissing his lover sweetly.

 

“You put too much sugar in your coffee,” Bruce giggles lowly, rubbing his nose across the stubble on Tony’s cheek. Tony’s arms coil loosely around his waist as Bruce kisses his jaw, teeths gently at the corner, and sucks his earlobe into his mouth, biting down gently on it.

 

As soon Tony feels Bruce lips against his earlobe, it sends a pulse of pleasure through his entire body, like he was getting some of the greatest head of his life. It causes him to shudder, his face heating up as his mouth hangs open to let out a fairly loud moan, especially loud considering all Bruce had done was bite his earlobe. He squirms under him slightly, his toes curling. Well that was odd, to say the least.

 

Bruce pulls back, furrowing his brow. “Tony?” he looks at his ear, which is a little wet and pink from Bruce’s teeth and tongue. “Are you okay?”

 

Tony just pants and nods. Raising his hand, Bruce runs a single fingertip gently down the shell of Tony’s ear.

 

Tony inhales sharply, biting down on his lower lip, his back arching off of the table slightly. "Shit…" He exhales, pushing his hips up as he looks down at Bruce with eyes glazed over with lust. The tight fabric of his boxer briefs do nothing to hide his growing arousal.

 

“Um, wow,” Bruce takes Tony’s wet earlobe in his fingers and rolls it gently, earning a whine out of the man beneath him. “Drunk Science?”

 

“Drunk Sci- fuck,” Tony pants.

 

“What the heck did we do to your ears?” Bruce chuckles, rolling the tab of flesh more firmly between his fingers.

 

Tony clenches his teeth, whines and small moans leaving him with nearly every exhale, his hips bucking off of the table. "F-fuck if I- Ah- fuckfuckfuck…" He pants out, trying his best to hold back his noises, not doing a very good job at it.

 

Bruce feels Tony’s fingers bruise at his hips, scrabbling to hold on tight. Bruce licks the pad of his left thumb and rubs it into Tony’s other earlobe while leaning down to capture the first in his mouth again, tracing the shell with his tongue before dipping the tip inside. It’s bitter, but the noise that Tony makes is beautiful.

 

“I think this needs to be studied,” Bruce says suddenly, pushing up off of Tony. “Roll over please.”

 

Without even hesitating to think, Tony is rolled over onto his stomach, the cold metal of the lab table pressed against his bare skin once again, causing him to shiver. Bruce straddles the swell of his ass, and presses a few tender kisses up his spine. He nips the nape of his neck, kisses down the side of his throat and then up his jaw, carefully avoiding Tony’s ear.

 

This isn’t the weirdest thing that Drunk Science has done to them. There was that one time that Bruce woke up with both of his arms from the elbow down transformed into the Hulk. Or that one time Tony sprouted a third eye for sixteen hours before it went blind, fell out and sealed up.

 

“I wonder what we were trying to accomplish?” Bruce breathes into Tony’s ear, earning a very loud moan and a full-bodied shiver.

 

“Elf ears, signore.” Jarvis answers.

 

Bruce sits up. “Elf ears. We were trying to give you elf ears, Tony. I’d bet my left foot that was your idea.”

 

"Probably…" Tony lets out a breathy chuckle, pressing his hips back toward Bruce, the need to be touched growing.

 

When Bruce decides it’s time for tests, he means business. He pins Tony’s  hands down to his sides by his knees, and leans out over him. He blows cool air into Tony’s ears one at a time, and then breathes hot air. He alternates between the temperatures until Tony is squirming and panting.

  
He sucks directly behind his ears and then below them, makes his tongue soft and wet and then extends it into a firm point, tracing the intricate curves of the whimpering billionaire’s ears.

 

Teeth come into play and Tony grinds against the lab table for all he’s worth when Bruce pulls on his ears with his lips first and then the teeth following right after. He takes turns paying attention to his ears and then sucks on one while touching the other.

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind a flag is waving telling him it’s kind of weird that he’s spending so much attention on a pair of ears, but then that logical part is totally drowned out by Tony’s desperate moans and cries.

 

He’s blatantly drooling on the tabletop, eyes screwed up shut, hips juddering against the tabletop. He’s too far gone to even form real words right now, so Bruce has to back off for a couple seconds.

 

“Results are consistent,” he says smugly, looking down at the ruined engineer beneath him.

 

"Bruce, Bruce..." Tony pants the other man's name, his eyes fluttering back open to look back at him. His body is trembling slightly from the need for more. More, he needs more. He'd be begging now if he could find his tongue to form sentences, or anything other than "fuck" or "Bruce."

 

He lifts his hips off of the table again, trying to sit back on his knees, but Bruce was in the way of him really moving anywhere. His cock has already begun to leak, forming a small puddle of precome on the table beneath him, his hips squirming for any kind of friction, for relief.

 

Bruce lost control of himself many minutes ago. It didn’t take much of Tony moaning like a whore to get him hot. His cock is full and hard, settled between the cheeks of his lover’s ass, and the constant pressure of Tony rocking his hips back desperately is both heavenly and maddening.

 

“Subject exhibits increased arousal and decreased motor skills,” Bruce drones as he pulls Tony’s underwear down off his legs in a slow, fluid motion. “Maybe subject has only enough blood to power one major organ at a time.”

 

He cups Tony’s ass in both hands and leans out over him again to bite down sharply on one ear while grinding forward against the newly exposed flesh.

 

Tony lets out a cry of pleasure, shoving his hips back against Bruce, his head spinning. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck!" He gasps, which comes out sounding more like a hiccup, almost strangled as he chokes on another loud moan, grinding his hips hard and fast against his lover's.

 

Bruce is panting now. He’s never known Tony to get _this_ hot for it _this_ fast. Tony’s always prided himself on a nice slow burn, the roll up to a climax and then fast-paced tumble down. This is a brand-new side of Tony, scrambling up the side of that cliff as fast as he can and ready to fling himself off the other side.

 

“Subject needs to be fucked, I think,” Bruce says calmly, grinding the pad of his thumb against Tony’s hole to find it, surprisingly, already soft and wet. He sits back again, and his lips part in surprise. “Oh, shit, wow,” he whispers. “Tony, I think you already have been. You’re all – you’ve already – shit.”

 

Lust surges through Bruce. He doesn’t top often, but the evidence is plain in front of him. He already fucked Tony once, at least. His pucker is pink and soft, and opens easily when Bruce presses his thumbs on either side. A drizzle of come slides out of Tony, striking white against the rosy pink of his hole.

 

“You greedy slut,” Bruce says as he realizes this is probably them _re-_ discovering the magic of Tony’s ears.

 

"Bruce, please- " Tony finally manages to moan out, rolling his hips against Bruce's hands, his movements shaky and stuttered. His chest is heaving with his pants and his hands are balled into fists. He needs this now or he's afraid he may rupture.

 

Bruce’s hands are shaking as he rubs them up Tony’s back. “You probably don’t even need to be prepared,” he says, leaning down to suck on the trembling engineer’s ear. Capturing the lobe in his teeth, he continues to talk, his breath fanning across the shell and down the man’s neck. “I bet I could just – ”

 

Instead of finishing his sentence, Bruce hooks two fingers into Tony. They sink in to the knuckle with ease, Tony’s body willing, soft and yielding. He can twist them, gathering the moisture of his own leftover come in order to drive them even deeper.

 

Tony's hips drive back against Bruce's penetrating fingers, another loud moan leaving the man. His hands ball up tightly, trying to keep his hips from rocking as he feels the fingers venture deeper, curling and twisting against the tender flesh.

 

One of the main reasons that Tony never bottomed was because he always became so incredibly needy. At least when he tops his head stays clear enough to keep even a little of his dignity. Like this though, his mind was in far too thick a haze to even consider his pride, overwhelmed with pleasure.

 

Bruce pulls his fingers back out, smeared with white fluid, and feels his heart rate kick up a notch at the sight. He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself before showing his fingers to Tony.

 

“Look at this. You’re a mess inside,” he hums.

 

"Fuck.." He pants out pressing his hips back from the sudden absence of Bruce's fingers. "Make it worse..." His words sound like a mix of a beg and a demand.

 

Bruce gathers up saliva and spits in his hand. The mixture of his saliva and the come still pooled on his fingers makes for decent emergency lube. Tony technically keeps lube in the lab, but it’s all the way on the other side, and he doubts Tony would permit him going all the way over there to get it.

 

Not to mention, Tony is already so loose and wet it wouldn’t make much of a difference. He straddles Tony’s thighs and pumps his cock to get it slippery before spreading Tony’s ass to get another look. He watches as Tony’s hole opens on its own just a little bit, and a thrill tremors down his spine.

 

"Bruce, Bruce, c'mon..." He urges the other impatiently, about to lose it if he doesn't feel Bruce's cock inside of him soon. He pushes his hips back again, giving Bruce an even better view of his pink hole, his entire body trembling slightly in anticipation.

 

Bruce chuckles at Tony’s enthusiasm, and arches his back over Tony’s shaking form. Mouthing at his ear, he lines up and digs in.

 

It’s never been so easy to sink inside Tony. Then again, he’s never had his own sloppy seconds. He’s lucky if he can ever convince Tony to hand over his pride once in a night, twice has never happened. The sensation of his cock lubricated by his own fluids leftover inside his lover is so amazing he might lose his mind.

 

Tony lets out a strangled moan, his hips driving back against Bruce's as he feels him enter him, a shudder running through his body. "Brucebrucebrucebruce-" He chants the other's name, his hips rolling and grinding against Bruce's length, taking him all the way in with ease, though still pleasantly tight around his cock.

 

Bruce props himself up on his palms. Taking his time, grinding slow into Tony, pressing deep, he lets himself _feel_ it.

 

“All this because of your ears,” he muses quietly, a smirk bowing his lips. “I wonder if it’s going to wear off.”

 

He leans down and closes his lips around the upper half of Tony’s ear, giving it a suck. Tony’s voice raises an octave when he whines, and Bruce’s hips snap forward harder in response.

 

“I hope it doesn’t,” his voice has a growl on the edge now. “I hope it’s like this forever. I want to be able to come up behind you at a crowded party and bite your ear and watch you lose it. Or run my finger down it in the lab when you’re working, watch you drop what you’re holding. You’d always be so vulnerable to me.”

 

Reason number two Tony rarely bottoms: Bruce’s dirty talking will probably kill him one day.

 

"Shit-!'He cries out, his hand moving down under him to grab at his own erection, pumping it in uneven strokes, unsure of how much more of this he could take. And they have only just begun. He lets out a high-pitched moan as he grinds his hips back against Bruce's, needing more, needing to feel more of him. "Bruce, Bruce, faster, harder, fuck fuck-"

 

Bruce kneels up, seated on the very tops of Tony’s thighs, buried in him to the hilt. He takes a moment to catch his breath, pushing his hair back out of his face, and watches Tony squirm under him.

 

When he whines “ _Please,_ ” like he thinks Bruce is waiting for him to start begging, he feels powerful.

 

Fingers dig into Tony’s shoulders, knees are sore on the firm tabletop, but the pleasure is worth it. The tempo kicks up, from their previous sloppy lovemaking to a real, proper fucking.

 

Moans pour out of Tony's mouth as Bruce pounds him, his body rocking on the table, hips meeting back against Bruce's hard with each thrust. "Fuckfuckfuck, Bruce- Bruce, I'm- shit!" He cries out, giving Bruce a warning that he may not last very much longer.

 

Tony’s voice is high and ragged, tears shining on his eyelashes as he’s literally fucked until he cries. Bruce feels in control like this – in control of everything. It’s such a nice change from his usual constant state of lingering terror of the things he can’t control. He thinks he might want to top more often.

 

“Come, Tony,” he growls in a knife-edged voice, the lab table quaking beneath the force of his and Tony’s combined fucking. Tony tenses around Bruce as he feels himself on the edge. Just a few more hard thrusts and he's screaming Bruce's name shamelessly, his hips grinding against the other man's as he rides out his orgasm, making a mess of the table underneath them.

 

Bruce fucks into Tony’s pliant body until he finishes inside him, throwing his head back with a roar that sounds far too close to the Other Guy. His knuckles are green on the tabletop as he impales him.

 

Collapsing on top of Tony without a care in the world, he pants into the side of his neck, shaking over him.

 

“Holy shit,” he whispers hoarsely. 

 

"I was thinking the same thing…" Tony chuckles breathlessly, panting hard. He feels like a pile of jelly on the table top, not seeming to mind that Bruce was nearly crushing him. It was comforting. "I would definitely be up for doing that again some time." He admits, his face still hot.

 

“If your ears stay like this, you can bet it’ll happen again,” Bruce teases, giving the lobe a little nip just to feel Tony’s whole body jerk weakly in response. “I finally have an upper hand.”

 

Maybe Bruce was wrong. Looks like it is possible for something good to come out of Drunk Science. Maybe he won’t fight Tony so hard next time he asks.


End file.
